TO THE MOON AND BACK

Two important childhood icons are linked in my mind for one reason and one reason only: Both were famous for being round. They carried out “in the round” functions that weren’t usually or necessarily done that way (unlike, say, the merry-go-round, another Jersey shore icon - also round, but its roundness was part of its very essence). Otherwise these two institutions have nothing in common, but somehow looking back, when I think of one I always think of the other.

The first was the Rotolactor, a system for milking a large number of cows successively by loading them on a rotating platform. Located in Plainsboro, NJ, it was less than an hour’s drive from Shark River Hills and only a few minutes from the Unitarian Fellowship we attended sporadically in Princeton. My sisters and I always clamored to stop at the Rotolactor on our way home, and knowing it made churchgoing more palatable to us, my father often complied. Thus, the Stodolas became Rotolactor regulars.

The Rotolactor was first conceived in 1913 by Henry W. Jeffers, an employee of the Walker-Gordon Laboratories in Plainsboro. Development was halted during World War I, but in 1928 the Walker-Gordon dairy was purchased by the Borden Company and development resumed. The Rotolactor. which was put into operation in November, 1930, was sort of a Rube Goldberg contraption including apparatus for bathing, weighing, measuring, and of course the teat-cups. The circular platform was sixty feet in diameter and could hold 50 cows, each of which made the entire circuit in 12.5 minutes. Everything was done mechanically, and an important feature was that the product never came into contact with air and was untouched by human hands. Cleanliness was everything.

The Rotolactor was featured in the Borden’s exhibit at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York. Borden’s had created the cartoon character Elsie the Cow as their mascot in 1936. (Before there was Joe Camel, before there was the Energizer Bunny, there was Elsie.) Discovering that the most popular question among Rotolactor tourists was “Which one is Elsie?” Borden’s selected a good natured cow to appear at the World’s Fair as the first of a succession of Elsie’s. She was buried on the Walker-Gordon farm after her death in 1941, and her grave was yet another must-see component of a Rotolactor visit.

​The second round attraction of my Jersey Shore childhood was the Neptune Music Circus. The original summer musical theater-in-the-round, under a circus-style big top, had been built in Lambertville, NJ in 1949 by the colorful actor and impresario St. John (“Sinjun”) Terrell. The format proved hugely popular, and spinoff “tune tents,” including the one in Neptune, quickly sprang up all over the country.

The closing of the Asbury Park Air Terminal 3 miles west of Asbury Park on Rte 66 provided Terrell with a perfect opportunity to bring this unique theater experience to the Jersey Shore. Inspired by Greek amphitheaters, steeply rising rows of folding chairs ringed the circular stage. The sets were of necessity simple and low, and stagehands could be seen running around moving scenery and props. A full orchestra ensured that nothing of the musical impact was sacrificed. Many then-unknown singers and actors got their start in this and similar venues.

The music circus craze turned out to be a bit of a flash in the pan, perhaps because of the inherent difficulties of staging such events, or perhaps because the world was ready to turn its attention to the rock music of the turbulent 1960s. By the 1970s most had folded their tents, though a couple soldiered on till early in the present century.

The Neptune Music Circus lasted only from 1952 to 1959, but its short lifespan came at just the right time for me - namely, my early adolescence, the mid-1950s, my last couple of years in Neptune. The dates are important because they marked the start of my parents’ treating me something like a grownup. I remember the three of us getting all dressed up for an evening out and then gingerly picking our way across the muddy grounds in our good shoes, pretending we didn’t notice. South Pacific, Finian’s Rainbow, The King and I, The Student Prince (a major tearjerker for me), Oklahoma, Brigadoon - I remember all these performances with nothing but pure joy. My parents later bought the show albums - vinyl, as we now call them - and I danced around the living room of our Long Island home, belting out my favorites - Bali Ha’i, You’ve got to be taught, How are things in Glocca Mora?, Drink, drink, drink to Heidelberg, OHHH-klahoma!

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CINDY STODOLA POMERLEAU

I was just shy of 3 years old when the US Army successfully bounced radar waves off the moon - the opening salvo in the Space Race, the birth of radioastronomy, and the first Earth-Moon-Earth (EME) communication. I was born on the Jersey coast for the same reason as Project Diana: my father, as scientific director of the Project, was intimately involved in both events. Like Project Diana, I was named for the goddess of the moon (in my case Cynthia, the Greeks' nickname for Artemis - their version of Diana - who was born on Mt Cynthos). Project Diana is baked into my DNA.